


Dear past me

by Soulreciever



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Boyf reinds, Descriptions of a Panic Attack, Jeremy is demisexual, Jeremy is not ok, No Beta, Post muscial, anxiety spirals, it never comes up in story but, mature rating for language alone, pinkberry exists in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulreciever/pseuds/Soulreciever
Summary: Turns out trying for world domination, even, like, 45% motivated by the shady AI squatting in your brain, is cause to be concerned for your mental well being.
Kudos: 2





	1. Dear past me

**Author's Note:**

> So this is Basically me playing a bit with musical aftermath and having a blast! 
> 
> I feel a need to state that I am a Brit so I’m sorry if I accidentally slide in weird Brit stuff thanks to that! 
> 
> Oh and chapters vary in length and who’s their POV...sorry if that gets frustrating in advance!

Turns out trying for world domination, even, like, 45% motivated by the shady AI squatting in your brain, is cause to be concerned for your mental well being.

The more you know, huh?

So, yeh, once a week I come see Karen, we talk about a whole lot of nothing for a while and then I go home feeling exactly the same as I did before I went.

You know as well as I do that that’s about as expected, that we have 70000% never been good with talking to strangers even without the added discomfort of being expected to ‘open up’ to them but, well, going makes Dad happy and he deserves happy so therapy it is.

It’s also why I’m writing this because, according to Karen, writing to your past self can sometimes help contextualise where you are now and thus understand that, despite appearnces, you have made progress.

100% honesty, because, god, am I just so, so, done with lying at this point, I wasn’t going to bother, Karen can’t legally read whatever I’ve written, after all and I’m pretty sure I can bullshit up some flowery revelation or another by next session to keep her happy and yet...

...I started cycling what I would say over and over in my head until it got to the point that it was either write it all down, or, let the fucking insomnia back in again which, ugh, no thanks.

First things first, idolisation isn’t love, affection or, big fucking surprise, a good basis for any form of actual functioning relationship.

Heh, I can picture the exact face you’d make hearing that, know, without doubt, that you’d flip me the finger and tell me to mind my business, because, what the fuck would I know?

Which, fair, it’s not as though you’ve actually been SQUIPed yet which, in turn, means you’re allowed to be just a bit nieve about how much of a pedistal you’ve put Christeen on, but, believe you me, it isn’t good kid.

As in you basically give her a “date me or I destroy everything” ultimatumn. 

You do not, in anyway, deserve her having given you the time of day after that, let alone her sticking around long enough for you to realise that, actually, being her friend is more than fucking enough thank you very much. 

Secondly, yes, getting the SQUIP makes you ‘cool’ and yes it does give you some really kick ass friends but, no, it is no fucking way, worth it. 

Jake’s always gonna have a limp, Rich can’t be near naked flames without a full on mental breakdown and no one in the squad can drink anything they’ve not physically prepared themselves or hear certain words without breaking down into a full on panic attack.

Thirdly, treasure the ever loving fuck out of each and every second you get of Michael’s time. Treasure knowing that all it would take was you asking and he’d be at your side as quickly as he could, that he absolutely has your back no matter what stupid ass scheme you come up with and that he would always, always, put your happiness before his.

Fuck the stupid bullshit that’s expected of you ‘as a man’ and 1000000% tell him how much you value his friendship every god damned chance you get.

Because, reality check, I’m not actually crossing the boundaries of time to talk to you right now which means that, in the not so distant future, you’re going to be exactly where I am right now and, spoilers, it isn’t a good place.

I can’t even blame the SQUIP because, guess what, turns out the physcotropic affects of alcohol are OP enough to smash even a super computer and yeh that’s 100% put us off drinking about as much as you’d think it would.

Yes that is me sidetracking and yes that’s utterly because it’s either pretend like everything’s ok or, you know, have that mental breakdown everyone kind of seems to think you’ve had already. 

So then, why not breakdown, right? They’re already thinking the worst, after all, so why not just give into it, release a little of the pressure and maybe start moving the fuck on?

Because you don’t deserve it.

Not forgiveness, not understanding, not even pity. 

You made your bed, Jeremiah Heer, now fucking lie in it. 

No love,

You.


	2. A father’s concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Heere worries about his boy.

Once they get home from the hospital he makes them both a good, strong, cup of coffee and they air out a 'lifetime' of dirty laundry. 

They end out in what feels, the most part, a better place and for all that it’s clear they are, the both of them, keeping things back he trusts that Jeremy will come to him the important things.

It’s that trust that keeps him from prying the first few weeks of Jeremy’s return to school, that keeps his lips tight when, after two dates, Jeremy starts mentioning Christeen only in passing and when, even more alarmingly, he stops going out to see his friends at all. 

Then he happens upon Moria Mell in the supermarket carpark. 

For a moment it’s not an issue, he has always gotten on well with both of Michale’s mothers, but between work and the simple fact that Michale having a licence means less need a parental choufer, it’s been a while since they’ve had chance to catch up. 

Of course then he remebers the curled edges what looked a photograph disappearing into an ashtray, takes notice how tired Moria looks about the eyes and he breaks an enquiry of,

"It’s bad, isn’t it?”

The subtlest of flinches, likely the unexpected shift in conversation then, nodding gently, she responds,

“Sometimes Michale takes a while to process things and, given how this last month’s been, it was easy, at least at first, to assume that’s what we were seeing.

“As days rolled into weeks and he got progressively quieter, shut more and more into himself, it became clear that wasn’t the case, that something was weighing on him, but...” 

“You promised yourself you wouldn’t interfere?”

“In the same boat?”

“Oh, even better, I all but promised Jeremy that I wouldn’t, you know, as a show of good faith.”

“Ah, yes, that old chesnut.” A shaky, shaky, smile and, reshouldering her bag a clear intent to get moving, she adds, “still, Mary’s right, at least we know that it will work out. It is those two, after all.” 

He doesn’t respond to that, watches her walk away a numb sort of detachment as his mind replays _“Jeremy and I aren’t friends any more,”_ over and over. 

At the time he’d discounted it nothing more than anger for whatever stupid thing his son had gotten himself bundeled into, indeed, he’d felt certain Michale’s promise had served proof enough that fact, yet now...

It had only ever been a promise to try. 

How long has he known Michale? How often has he seen how...intense...the boy gets about the things that he loves? 

God, such half hearted conviction should have been instant alarms bells and yet he'd been so hung up on the immediacy of the situation that he'd not even paused, accepted it at face value and blindly stumbled onward. 

The thing is he's spent a good few weeks now watching his son slowly collapsing into his own neuroses and, for better or worse, the experience has given him an even better idea as to how vital Michale had been during the **incident**. 

If they kept drifting or, worst case scenario, something wrenched them irreparable finality, asunder, what would that mean for Jeremy now?

He rolls the thought over and over in his mind on the drive home, builds a mental picture so strong that, eventually, he finds himself outside Jeremy's bedroom door, nose filled the scent of phantom blood and hands trembling oh so gently as they raise to knock on the wood.

There is not, unsurprisingly, an answer and, in usual circumstances, he'd simply give his son whatever update that'd prompted him here the first place and then leave him be. That there is no normality to this situation, that the silence has his heart beating all the faster and his ears straining, pointless, the sound of any form of life the room beyond, presses him to knock again and, when that too prompts no response, he pushes the door open some mumbled excuse or another. 

His son is pressed tight to the backboard of his bed, long limbs tucked tight against his chest, comforter balanced, tent like, over his head and, finally, laptop set, precarious, just and just in front of his feet.

When, that long week of hospitalisation, he’d first seen this particular behaviour he’d been struck how small his boy looked, had reached, instinctive, to help and been very, very, gently rebuked.

Had had it explained, the familiar stuttering hesitance, that, odd though it seemed given the circumstances, Jeremy had found that this form of controlled solitude helped drown the voices a while.

That though he looked, from the outside, as though he was running away he was, infact, fighting as hard as he could his own way. 

To see that fight now, battered and bruised though it might be, eases just enough his fears to allow the guilt back in which, in turn, sees him taking stumbling step back out the room but a minute after he’d entered. 

Jeremy sees him, of course, one gently trembling hand lifting to remove his earbuds and his tired, tired, blue eyes fixing him a clear look of curiosity. 

He knows he should play the matter off, smile as though he’s not just stumbled into this room fearful a worst case scenario and thus stop the situation before it become a _thing_. However, he _had_ been afraid, is, at least in part, _still_ afraid and that’s motivation enough to at least ask,

“Could I have a minute?” In a manner that expresses not only that he will, absolutely, take no for an answer but also that he’s not harbouring bad news.

Eventually he gains the smallest nod of a head and, gently placing the laptop onto his side table, Jeremy taps the space in front of his feet a soft confession of “I appreciate that you want to respect my boundaries but, honestly, you looming in the doorway is way, way, worse for my mental state right now.” 

They, almost simultaneously, take a deep breath as he settles onto the bed and, smiling a little the moment of familial syconysity, he informs Jeremy,

“I guess my brain’s been freewheeling a lot these last few weeks and I was stood there, staring at canned produce, when suddenly I realised how much of an ass I’ve been being.” A beet, then, encouraged Jeremy’s little ‘go on’ gesture, he adds, “I shouldn’t have been so pushy about you _specifically_ having a girlfriend, I mean, _as your dad_ , I should’ve been more concerned that you were happy rather than with what gender your chosen partner identified with.

“So, I just wanted to make it 100% clear that I don’t care, Jeremy, that I love and respect you no matter what, ok?”

A shaky, shaky smile a soft, “Yeh, ok, I got it,” then Jeremy stretches to fold him, gently, into a hug.

For a moment it is simply this, simply the warmth of his boy there in his arms and the undeniable proof his vitality in each and every breath and then...

...a sharp hiccup and, suddenly, Jeremy is very much in the throws of a pretty severe panic attack. 

He has, unfortunate familiarity, grown used to moments like this and thus it is all but second nature to press the heal of one of Jeremy’s hands tight against his chest and begin to measure his breathing.

To ask, once he is certain his son’s breath has synced his own, the list of sights, sounds and smells.

Once that is achieved he places space again between them and states simply,

“I’m listening if you want to talk.”

A hard, hard breath and then, “I chose to believe a _computer _over him, dad, kept making that same choice over and over again no matter how fucking obvious it became how stupid that was...until...__

__“...Halloween he tried to talk to me, tried to get me to pull my head out of my ass for five minutes to see sense and I threw it back in his face. Looked him dead in the eyes and, off my own fucking back mind you, told him that exact truth...that I’d been complicit in cutting him out and, in an extra fun twist of the knife, implied that he was nothing but dirt to me now._ _

__“The second I woke up...after...I wanted to apologise, ran over the right words to say over and over in my head until my fucking anxiety decided to slide on in with the idea that, maybe, it’d be better to not even try._ _

__“I’d already left it this long, after all and, ok, things weren’t the way they used to be between us, but it wasn’t as though he was blanking me at school, right and we both had other people to hang out with now so drifting was sort of natural._ _

__“That prompted a whole lot of over thinking about basically the entirety of our friendship and suddenly it’s been months since I’ve done anything other than say ‘hey’ to him in the corridor.” A frustrated sound and, running the heal of his hands tight against his forehead one sharp, angry, swipe, he adds, “I want to be ok with that, it’s so much less than I fucking deserve, after all and yet here we are.”_ _

__Because he knows better than to try and either question or attack his son’s  
self depreciation he instead enquires “ok and how’s that going to look to Michale?”_ _

__A frown creases at his son’s head as he murmurs, “I don’t...” the words trailing as he retreats into his own head._ _

__There is a long, long, silence during which he watches, ever vigilant, the slightest hint that he has, in choosing this risky tactic, caused another panic attack._ _

__Eventually Jeremy draws, sharply, back into himself an angry enquiry of, “god, why can’t I do anything right?”_ _

__“Look, go have a hot shower, I’ll make us something to eat and then, if you’d like, we can work through this together.”_ _

__A long, deep, breath and then, “yeh, that sounds like a plan actually, thanks dad.”_ _

__“Anytime Kiddo”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . I found it beyond amusing to give all the Mells M names. 
> 
> . Mr Heere seems like a good egg if a bit slow on the uptake sometimes. So 100% the realisation he talked about here is a thing that happened at some point before his talk with Jeremy and he’s mentioning it now as a) it felt a good sort of time b) he just needs his boy to know he’s loved.
> 
> . As someone that loves with his whole heart it feels weird that Michale made such a vague promise during the Pants Song. The muscial never addresses this, I mean you have no time there at the end to add extra Michale angst on top of everything else, so I thought why not have a shove at it myself.


	3. There’s never been a better time...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michale has a lot of stuff to unpack.

When, initially, he’d read that the Squip was weak to red Mountain Dew he’d had a real sort of ‘aha’ moment on the whole optic nerve blocking front. 

‘Cause, hey, making sure the one guy who could destroy you got to an ‘I wouldn’t even piss on you if you were on fire’ point with your current host was, he had to admit, pretty genius.

It’d been why he’d actively sought Jeremy out at that stupid party in the first place, why he’d attempted, like the nieve idiot he apparently was, to face the entire matter head on.

Thing is, telling yourself someone doesn’t mean what they’re saying, that there’s a whole heap of background stuff going on that you can’t see, is a hell of a lot easier to do when not faced, directly, with that said someone.

It hadn’t helped, in the least, that he knows Jeremy, knows he’d meant it when he’d said _the thing_ switched off during the confrontation and, more damningly, that he’d meant every single word he’d said after.

Oh he has time, sat the back of an ambulance with a shock blanket around his shoulders and the warm glow the smouldering ashes of what had once been a house before him, to begin wondering if Jeremy had called him a looser _on purpose_. 

Their last, genuine, conversation had been about that documentary on evolution, after all and how now, at fucking last, being a looser could be seen to be a good thing. 

Perhaps, conditioned in some way or another to be terrified the repercutions of disobeying the SQUIP, Jeremy had remebered that discussion and reached out for help under the guise an insult. 

He spends far, far, too much money on acquiring the Red with that thought in his head, legitimately starts planning just the right way to get the stuff into Jeremy’s system without the SQUIP catching on and then his head catches back up with his heart. 

See, the thing is, ‘too far’ is a concept that hasn’t existed as far as keeping Jeremy happy is concerned for a long, long, while and, honestly, he’d not been too bothered by that fact up until recently because he’d known Jeremy wouldn’t needlessly push. 

He doesn’t know that now, doesn’t know anything at all about this ‘new and improved’ Jeremy and he’s absolutely fucking livid that his heart’s decided that, despite that, he still deserves a free pass.

That Jeremy 2.0 deserves to have excuses made for why he’d been a colossol dick despite having a) not put the effort in to earn that fact and b) not only not being ashamed of being a dick but actively going right back to said dickish behaviour an instant after being called out. 

If new ‘improved’ Jeremy didn’t want him in his life, felt, in fact, that his very presence was an annoyance, then, ok, he’d get the hell out of his life.

He’s just getting to terms with that choice, with smothering out the part of him that keeps screaming that, hey, Jeremy 1.0 might still be in there, might still be saveable, when Mr Heere comes along to drag him right back in. 

The play happens, the hospital happens and suddenly he’s not only friends with former bullies but being aggressively flirted at by one of them. 

It’s a lot to process and, shamed though he is to admit the fact, he kind of lets the whole Jeremy situation slide for a bit while his brain catches up with itself. 

A few extra weeks of not talking shouldn’t make that much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, after all. 

Of course then weeks become months, he has to find out that Jeremy broke things off with Christeen _second hand_ and his phone’s blowing up with message after message about how very, very, worried everyone in the gang is about his former best friend. 

He, mistakingly, expresses that he thinks the other seems ‘fine’ and is instantly met with several long text essays, as well as an actual legit photo slideshow, detailing how wrong he is on that front. 

Given how...dramatic...his friends could get over the simplest of things he’s pretty sure that, if it’d just been a case of his perecption of things verses theirs, he’d probably have just decided them reading too much into everything and carried on as normal. 

The photos, however, are a different matter entirely. 

All of them are shots of Jeremy taken, very clearly, without the other’s realisation and seeing months of slow, slow, degradation the other’s entire appearance in quick, chronological, succession is as the coldest of showers.

Jeremy has been falling apart at the seams and he’d not been there to realise, had, 100%, made things worse by not confronting them from the get go. 

How long had he known Jeremy, known how easily he’d start hyperfocusing on tiny, tiny, things and obsess at them until, suddenly, they were massive, world shattering, issues?

God what has that boy been convincing himself of while he’s been off just living his life? 

He looses a week to chewing himself out, to obsessing over all the ways he absolutely should have acted and all in all waisting time he 7000% does not have.

Though, honestly, risky though it might be, spinning his heals for a bit is probably the only real way to ensure he doesn’t end up making things worse rather than better.

Because, thing is, for all that he understands that Jeremy can’t be held completely responsible for his actions recently, understands _why_ he’d reached for the SQUIP in the first place, he’s is still all sorts of angry and betrayed about the entire situation. 

Oh he knows he needs to talk to Jeremy about that fact at some point, holding in the everything he feels about the entire SQUIP situation will only end out in a messy breakdown further down the line, after all, but, right now, Jeremy's brain would 10000000% take a conversation like that and go to town. 

So, given that that's what he's trying to stop in the first place, he needs to get to a place where he's mostly ok with putting that conversation in the 'later' pile, which, in turn, means having to be ok with letting this sit even longer than it had already. 

It is not, unsurprisingly, an easy task and he spends 48 hours in a frustrated, moody, funk before naynay roots him out of the basement with freshly baked pandesal and remarks, 

"Ok, I promise this isn't me interfering, your mama would have my head if she even thought I was trying and, honestly, I know and respect that you are your own self, but, well, I have an observation to throw at you if you want to hear it."

He takes a moment to think the offer over, butters and consumes one half a soft, soft, roll, before responding a simple, "ok, shoot."

"If something's the same for a long, long, time you get used to it being like that right and so if then that something changes it take a while for you actually process that those changes have happened." A soft smile and then she adds, "like when we re-hung the living room door, for months after you'd keep hitting your head on it because you'd forgotten it opened inward now rather than out."

For a moment he's simply embarrassed that she's bringing that up _again_ and then her meaning slides its way home a real, tingling, sense of realisation. 

It's been him and Jeremy against the world for so long that he's forgotten that's not the case now, that he has other people he can call friends and who, he knows, are about as worried over Jeremy as he is right now.

All but swallowing the other half his roll whole he kisses naynay firmly on the forehead, thanks her enthusiastically and then dashes back down stairs to grab his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . As much as I believe Michale wouldnt have been ‘patched out’ of Jeremy’s life if he hadn’t had easy red access there’s no real arguing that continuing on with the optic nerve blocking after the Bathroom was Jeremy choice, oh there was a whole heap of SQUIP manipulation going on in background for sure but I’d say it was 70% on Jeremy.
> 
> .You bet I’m on the “he was still in the bathroom when the fire hit” train, though for me he’s gonna have smelt that smoke and gotten the hell out before it got too too crazy. I mean Jake only ended out like he did because he fell through the floor and Rich was ground zero so of course he’s getting burnt. 
> 
> . Timeline wise this is all happening in the January after the play, so, given I’d always assumed said play was a November thing we’re looking at a good two months of avoidance happening which isn’t, you know, a lot but it’s certainly enough for our Anxious boy to start self destructing.


	4. A distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christeen checks in on Jeremy

She's been on another Starkids musical kick the last few days and is just getting her heart eviscerated by 'if I had a thousand wishes' when the background buzz of an incoming text takes her right out of the moment.

Frowning she stretches to grab her phone all ready to tell the chat that they interrupted Dylan, how dare, when she sees that, actually, it’s a direct message from Michale. 

**Mellow yellow:** Hey, Chris, sorry this is comming out of the blue but could you do me a massive favour and check in on Jeremy for me? You know, make sure he’s at least remembering to eat while he’s dealing with all the anxiety shit?

They haven't really ever talked that much outside of the occasional chat interaction, something that frustrates her to no end because, hey, Michale seems like a genuinely lovely dude and, from the little that they have interacted, really, really, interesting. 

Still she gets that he's a little socially uncomfortable because, honestly, mood and had been more than content to just let him become her friend at his own speed.

So, that he’s reaching out to her rather than anyone else in the SQUAD, _especially_ with this, is about as heartwarming as it is confusing and she allows herself a little celebratory fist pump before responding with,

 **CC:** I mean, I can try, but, honestly he’s avoiding me about as aggressively as he is everyone else right now.

 **Mellow yellow:** Shit, ok, first off, remind me to tell everyone to kick my ass a hell of a lot harder and a hell of a lot sooner if we end out here again.

 **Mellow yellow:** Secondly, get yourself over to his house and then text him that you’re there. Putting people out is higher on the anxiety spiral list than confrontation so he’ll let you in.

 **Mellow yellow:** Ugh, ok, I just read back how shitty that sounds, look I promise I’m not trying to make you emotionally blackmail him or anything it’s just...

 **Mellow yellow:** Right now what he needs is someone to get him out of wherever his head’s put him and, given I’m not quite where I need to be to be that person, I’m trusting that to you.  
 **CC:** Ok, wow, thank you, Michale.

 **Mellow yellow:** It’s no biggie and, hey, once we’ve got Jeremy sorted how about you and I go catch a movie or something?

**CC: **Sounds good.****

****Smiling to herself she pockets her phone and, dashing down the stairs she yells out  
“I’m just popping out for a bit.”** **

****A moment then, from somewhere deep in the house, her mom’s voice responds with, “Ok, honey, ring us when you’re on the way home please.”** **

****“Sure thing!”** **

****With which she’s out of the house, dashing as quickly as she can to make the next bus and walking her way up the path to the Heere house all of a half hour later.** **

****She’s just pulling her phone out of her pocket to let Jeremy know she’s there when she meets Mr Heere’s eyes through the kitchen window and, smiling sweetly, she offers him a cheery wave.** **

****Waving in response he turns his back a moment, most likely to let Jeremy know she’s there, before gesturing for her to come in and join him.** **

****“Can I get you something to drink?” He enquires once she’s settled herself in at the breakfast bar.** **

****“A glass of water wouldn’t go amis, thank you, Mr Heere.”** **

****Jeremy’s just started making his way down the stairs by the time the water is poured and, flashing her a mock salute Mr Here remarks,** **

****“I’m gonna leave you two to talk, but it was good to see you again, Christeen.”** **

****“You too Mr Heere.”** **

****Two sips of water and then Jeremy’s at the door, contacts abandoned in favour of a pair of tatty, old fashioned, glasses and body swamped a overly baggy jumper.** **

****“Ha, yeh, your face tells me I look about as shitty as I feel.” A wry, wry, smile and crossing to sit opposite her, he adds, “hey Chris,”** **

****“Hey Jer, are those glasses seriously as old as they look?”** **

****“Yep, the tictac made me toss my most recent pair and I’m so tired right now that I’m afraid I’ll poke an eyeball out if I try to put my contacts in so Jeremy circa 1990 it is.”** **

****“Geeze, for such state of the art technology the tictac was certainly backwards in a lot of its thinking. I mean, hello, glasses are, like, the iconic ‘hypster chique’ accessory.”** **

****“I guess any software’s only as good as its operating system.”** **

****The words are uttered in such a gut punchingly hollow manner that she, absolutely, can’t help circling the table and furling him into a tight, semi uncomfortable, side hug.** **

****A moment of silent, silent, contemplations and then, “ok, so, I see you seeing the links I’ve been sending you, thoughts?”** **

****A flash of surprise, 100% the choice to not call him out entirely and then, actual smile curling the edges of his mouth, he responds,** **

****“Dylan is best boy and I might low key be willing to donate organs if it meant an actual, full scale, movie adaptation of Twisted, but...”** **

****“Jeremiah Heere if you so much as even think of saying Oragon Trail is the superior musical I will gut you!!”** **

****“Sorry, Cris, but, come on! Retro game musical?? That’s like so my jam that it’s not even funny!!”** **

****“Ok, fiiiine, you can keep your stupid opinion,” a beet then, “as payment you can consider yourself challenged to a game of Mario tennis.”** **

****“Ok, Canigula, first we go on a snack run and then I will gladly kick your ass at virtual tennis”** **

****With which the tease of a smile blooms outward on his face and it becomes stupidly, stupidly, easy to pretend as though everything is normal for a while.** **

****To spend the short walk to the 7/11 talking and laughing togther as they have so, so, many, times before.** **

****It’s an illusion that begins flaking the second they cross into the store proper, his previously relaxed posture tightening something visibly ‘cooler’ and his hands shifting, almost lightning fast, from his pockets.** **

****He’s still content to trade nonsense conversation with her, even goes so far as to raise his voice back above a shy, shy, whisper when she states a preference for nacho cheese Doritos and then...** **

****They’d been working their way through the aisles to get to the register when he freezes and then, after a moment, begins to shake just ever so imperceptively.** **

****She knows, insintinctive, that it’s the start of a panic attack and, as gently as she can, she enquires,** **

****“You look a little cold, Jer, how about you let me have the food so I can pay for it and you can get yourself out of the aircondtioning?”** **

****“Y...yeh, that sounds like an idea...I...I’ll wait for you outside on the curb...o...okay?”** **

****“Ok, I won’t be a minute.”** **

****She waits until he’s not only out of sight but she hears the beep of the door counting him back out again, before pulling her phone out and sending Michale a quick,** **

******CC:** How do I stop a tiny attack from becoming a big one?”** **

****She can feel the buzz of him responding as she’s stepping up to pay and, as quickly as she can manage without being rude, she collects the bag and shunts  
herself as much out the way of customer flow as she can.** **

******Mellow yellow:** Make sure he’s breathing right, get him a nice, cold, drink, ask if you decide a hug is needed and, seriously, trust your instincts, ok? ** **

******Mellow yellow:** Oh and, no, you couldn’t have stopped it before it became a thing in the first place. He’s gotten so good at the ‘I’m fine now, haha,’ thing at this point that even I buy it more often than not.** **

****A smile the glib, casual, assurance that she’s still good, that he still trusts her with this and, firing back a quick thank you she juggles her phone back into her pocket before making her way out to Jeremy.** **

****With a casual glance he looks, for all the world, llike a typical teenager hanging about outside a convenience store and she forces herself to not give, once more, that illusion.** **

****To see the ramrod straight posture and subtle increase the trembling everywhere about his body.** **

****A sharp breath and then, settling a good few inches from his side, she passes him a bottle of soda from out of the bag and asks,** **

****“Can I give you a hug?”** **

****“N...n...not a hu...hu...hug bu...bu...but y...you c...c...an sit c...c...closer.”** **

****“Shoulder to shoulder or just close enough to get a bit of my body heat?”** **

****“Sh...shoulder t...t...t...to shoulder.”** **

****“You got it!” She remarks as she gently scootches herself down the curb until, as requested, their shoulders are touching.** **

****A sharp, hard, breath and, after taking a few slow, slow, sips the soda, he remarks,  
“Ok, so, aparently I have ranked up my BS skills enough that even my subconscious buys it because, man, did I not see that one comming until it was right there.”** **

****“And with only 17 years of gameplay too!”** **

****“I know, right, just think of the heights I’ll have achieved by the time we hit year 30!!”** **

****“Ugh, no, ok, not even a bit this golden is worth thinking about having to be an actual, functioning, adult for too long.”** **

****“Ha, mood.” Another, longer, breath and, leaning just ever so, against her, he asks, "can I tell you a secret, Cris?"** **

****"You can tell me anything, Jer...oh, unless it's the location of a body."** **

****"Hey, being ok with being complicit in murder plots is the one mandatory perk of staying friends with your ex!" A slight shove and then, posture tightening up again just a little, he informs her, "I think I'm in love with Michale, as in I can fully imagine growing old together surrounded by a whole army of dogs and a kid or two."** **

****"Oh, wow, Jer, that's...gosh, that's a whole thing right there."** **

****"Yeh, just a shame it couldn't have, you know, been a thing _before_ the whole tictac debacle." ** **

****"Oh, god, you know what just hit me, if Michale had been even 1% less...himself...he wouldn't have been a threat to the tictac and if he wasn't a threat then..."** **

****"He'd have been the first on the 'to SQUIP' list."** **

****"Ugh I can't believe we have 90's nostalgia to thank for not being in a cyborg dystopia right now."** **

****"I mean if the only mechanical part in you is the tictac can you really be classed as a cyborg?"** **

****"Let's put it to the chat." She remarks as she, once again, rescues her phone from her pocket and, after very swiftly opening up the group chat so as to avoid the whole 'oh, what have you been talking to Michale about' conversation for now, she types** **

******CC: Guys, solve an argument me and a Jer are having, would you class someone with _just_ a SQUIP as a cyborg or something else?** ** **

******A moment and then,** ** **

********JakeyD:** SQUAMBY** ** **

********Richyrich:** SQUORG** ** **

********Rollan in the deep:** SQUKED** ** **

********Pink:** SQUIPNATISED...** ** **

********Berry:**...by the SQUINTERNET** ** **

********CC:** I love that literally 0% of you went the cyborg rout. Also, OMG, SQUPINATISED by the SQUINTERNET is legit the best, Cloe and Brooke win all the things! ** ** **

********Richyrich:** Ok, I want to come back to how a pair answer feels like cheating later but, for now, when did you talk to our sad boy Cris?** ** **

******A snort from Jeremy at that and, sliding his own phone out from his back pocket, he takes a moment tinkering with settings and then,** ** **

******* **Jer-bear** changed their name to **Sad Boi** *** ** **

********Sad Boi:** I have achieved my truest form. ** ** **

********Richyrich:** he lives! ** ** **

********Rollan in the deep:** Omg!!** ** **

********JakeyD:** Duuuuuuuuuude!!!!!!** ** **

********Pink:** Long time no chat Heere** ** **

********Berry:** We miss your face! ** ** **

********Sad Boi:** Hey everyone. Sorry I’m MIA at the moment but, you know, Brain stuff. ** ** **

********Rollan in the deep:** I mean, we figured! Just know we’re all here for you...or should that be Heere for you??** ** **

********Sad Boi:** Jenna no.** ** **

********JakeyD:** Jenna yes!! Also, dude, go eat in the auditorium or something while your head’s being a dick. I am legit worried about your skinny ass catching hypothermia out on those bleachers now that January is a thing.** ** **

********Sad Boi:** I mean I wear layers but, I hear you and, I mean, I still have my key so...** ** **

********CC:** Remind me to get that back off you before someone missses it, we already got one drama teacher suspended, after all, I seriously don’t want to risk loosing another one!! ** ** **

********CC:** Also, guys, say bye to Jer, I still have to kick his ass at Mario tennis before it gets late enough that mom starts worrying. ** ** **

********Richyrich:** Don’t kick his ass too hard, Chris and see you when we see you Jer!!** ** **

********Rollan in the deep** :Bye Jer** ** **

********Pink:** Catch you on the flip, Heere** ** **

********Berry:** I’ll bake you victory cookies Cris!! ** ** **

********Sad Boi:** Ok and who’s to say I won’t win?** ** **

********Richyrich:** The fact that you have about as much grace as a baby deer?** ** **

********Sad boi:**...fair** ** **

********JakeyD:** How about when you feel better you show me those mad Mario cart skills I hear you have Jer?** ** **

********Sad Boi:** I will take that pitty offer, thanks, Jake!** ** **

********Sad Boi:** Ok, off I go guys. Thanks for being you. ** ** **

******He’s still smiling once the phone is back in his pocket, the thing fragile enough that it can’t be anything once real and, gently buffeting him with her shoulder she remarks,** ** **

******“Come on, let’s go earn me some cookies!!”** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . Christeen is entirely the sort of person everyone gets on with and I absolutely believe Michale would too once he’s had time to adjust to her being someone he can actually talk to, yes even if she’d carried on dating Jeremy. 
> 
> . Trust is a big thing when Jeremy’s head’s in a bad place, outside of Michale Christeen feels like the one friend he’d trust the most and that’s why Michale had hoped he’d not gotten to the point of shutting her out with everyone else. 
> 
> . Given this is a world where the SQUIP exists I think I can be allowed to have a group chat that a) lets you just lurk if you want and b) not only changes your name when you want but let’s everyone know it’s happened. 
> 
> . The attack we see in chapter two happened the day previous so Jeremy’s still raw but talking stuff out with his dad/being able to have a bit of fun with Christeen lures him into a false sense of security. 
> 
> . I know the show later just chucked Will wearing his glasses at all but I liked the dorkier edge they gave Jeremy as well as the fact that Jeremy suddenly not needing them was the biggest flag that that the SQUIP was actively messing with his eyes! 
> 
> . Starkids musicals are underrated gems in my opinion and 100% I knew I had to make these dorks fans if only because of the Trail to Oregon. Also, yes, Christeen has watched both of the Hatchet Feild verse musicals and decided that, jams though they are, its better not to show them to Jeremy given, you know, trigger points. 
> 
> . He tells Christeen first because his Dad is visibly raw right now and he doesn’t want to inadvertently trigger ass hat mom memories. He’ll 100% tell his dad once he feels certain the timing is right which, given Jeremy’s anxiety, will probably be a while comming!


	5. Michale Mell v his own damned brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michale does some thinking that, unfortunately, swiftly turns into a hell of a lot of over thinking.

It had 100% felt the right idea at the time and, ok, it wasn’t as though he regretted putting everything on Christeen’s more than capable shoulders it was just...

...this is the first he’s had to actively sit out and talk someone else through stopping Jeremy from having an attack.

Honestly it shouldn’t be a big deal, Jeremy himself has told him that he’s had attacks before without him there and lovingly grumbled about how ‘to the book’ his dad always gets with dealing with them, but, aparently, his stupid ass brain isn’t one for logic these days. 

Because, legitimately, his first instinct upon gaining the cry for help is to find out where they are right now and drive himself over as quickly as he can.

To simply scream fuck it to broiling, complicated, mess of thoughts in his head, push Christeene out of the way and wrap himself about Jeremy’s skinny ass body consent or no consent. 

Who knows, maybe ensighting an emotional overload would feel payback enough that the dark, bitter, parts of him would finally just let him have his best friend back already.

It’s an ugly, ugly, thought and, disgusted with himself, he simply texts Christeene some simple, helpful, advice, then leaves his phone in the basement while he goes to help naynay with the chores.

It’s a choice he feels better for when, several hours later, he comes back to a text notification from Christeen that states,

 **CC:** Thank you for earlier Michale.

**Mellow yellow: **No worries! How’d you go?****

******CC: **We talked, SQUAD chat happened for a bit and then we played Mario tennis.**** ** **

**********Mellow yellow:** Oh, god, did he at least manage to not shatter anything this time?** ** ** **

**********CC:** Even better he actually won a set! ** ** ** **

**********Mellow yellow:** Duuuuuuude, pics or it didn’t happen!! ** ** ** **

**********CC:** Haha, you got it!! ** ** ** **

********The image of Donky Kong, Jeremy’s character of choice whenever the option presents itself, posing under the winning screen flashes onto his phone and then,** ** ** **

**********CC:** one more and then I’m off to bed. Some of us want to actually be awake for school tomorrow.** ** ** **

********He’s just and just sent a little tease her sensible behaviour along with a goodnight when the second photo rolls in.** ** ** **

********Jeremy, stripped down to a ratty Pac-Man tee shirt he knows a long since gifted birthday present, face flush from exertion and curls slick for sweat.** ** ** **

********He’s smiling with the same soft, careless, abandon he’d always gotten when it was just the two of them and the expression, along with the re-appearance of his glasses, sets an odd sort of whistfulness there in his heart.** ** ** **

********More than anything he wants these last few months to never have happened, to be able to know, some impossible power, that Jeremy’s even worse than he’s fearing.** ** ** **

********To know that the next they talked he’d have to make extra sure Jeremy knew him on his side and so, so, willing to do whatever was needed to make his friend happy.** ** ** **

********Maybe with just the right words he could have stopped him wanting a SQUIP at all and then...** ** ** **

********This is real life, of course, which means he can’t have that, can’t do anything but look at the image on the screen and be thankful that, if nothing else, Jeremy seems at least 1% better.** ** ** **

********A sharp, agritvated, huff as he tosses his phone back away from him and, routing out both laptop and headphones, he searches out a good YouTube tree to loose himself in.** ** ** **

********He wakes, with a start, what feels only five minutes later, mouth cottony and left temple aching from where the arm of his glasses has been pressed tight against it.** ** ** **

********The obnoxious red digits of his bedside clock warn that, contrary to the signals his body’s sending, he’s actually had a good five hours of sleep and that he has about ten minutes before his alarm starts blaring.** ** ** **

********For a moment he debates calling in sick for the day, actively opens the group chat the thought of begging everyone to take notes/collect homework and then his eyes cease the last set of messages.** ** ** **

********As he is right now Jeremy has 100% been thinking about how he’s only got the gang because of the SQUIP, about how, now that he’s himself again, they’re only hanging about because they feel obligated and, hey, if he fades himself out they’ll realise they don’t have to be obligated and will run for the hills.** ** ** **

********Thing is, dickish though it can be, Jeremy’s anxiety has always pretty much shut the fuck up about stuff once he’s got good, solid, proof that, guess what, turns out he’s just been being making mountains out of molehills again.** ** ** **

********Oh it’d lurk, Jeremy isn’t Jeremy without a little background anxiety, after all, but it wouldn’t be intrusive enough to be actively messing with his day to day anymore.** ** ** **

********Yesterday’s brief chat interaction should, 7000%, have been proof that he was wanted, SQUIP or no SQUIP, by the squad and had him happily agreeing to be back at the table by the next lunchtime.** ** ** **

********It’s got to mean there’s something else going on and yet what?** ** ** **

********Since acquiring the cruiser he’d stopped eating at school and, once the SQUIP killed the need to be back early enough to catch up with Jeremy, he’d gotten the timing down on sliding back to school just and just in time for his next class.** ** ** **

********Given Jeremy started eating with the squad after the whole optic nerve blocking thing was no longer an option he, absolutely, knows that this is the case and that, therefore, choosing to eat with the gang wouldn’t mean also having to see him in a casual, oh look we actually have to make small talk, sort of setting.** ** ** **

********Yet if it’s no that then what else could it..oh...actually, yeh, that’d make a whole lot of sense.** ** ** **

********Jeremy’s 100% keeping away to encourage _him_ to stop hiding and go sit with the squad at lunch, to actually, visibly, hang out with the popular kids and thus ensure that the entire school realises just how cool he is. ** ** ** **

********It tugs a little at his heart and, just like that, he wants nothing more than to simply talk to Jeremy.** ** ** **

********He lets the idea marinate in his head as he goes about getting ready for school, keeps glancing at it whenever his brain’s not clogged up with math or poetry analysis or whatever other shit he’s meant to be learning.** ** ** **

********The compulsion is still there by the time the lunch bell rings and so, shouldering his backpack, he makes his way to the auditorium.** ** ** **

********It’s unlocked and, pausing a moment to suck a steadying breath, he opens then steps through it.** ** ** **

********Jeremy is, unsurprisingly, making himself as inconspicuous as possible, thin, thin, body, arranged so that, on the offchance of a teacher randomly finding and investigating the unlocked door, he’d be easily mistaken for a drape on the stage curtain.** ** ** **

********It’s not perfect camoflage, indeed, honestly, it’d probably not stand up to anything more than a minute of casual investigation and would, 100%, crumble if someone stepped even a foot into the room but, well, the effort had been made.** ** ** **

********Lips curling, unbidden, up at the corners he makes a deliberate show of closing the door again before stepping where he knows he’ll be seen and enquiring,** ** ** **

********“Mama made chicken Adobo last night, do you wanna join me in denting the stupid amount of leftovers she shipped me out with this morning?”** ** ** **

********A moment and then, tapping the space at his side, he remarks,** ** ** **

********“Are you kidding? I love your mama’s Adobo!!”** ** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . The way George plays Michale certainly makes it feel as though he has ‘functional’ anxiety and so I channeled a bit of my own experiences with the mental fun that can be for this chapter. 
> 
> . Given Michale turns up just in time to get his Jeremy update before the rest of ‘more than survive’ happens it’s easy to assume he’s been eating out of school for a bit and that, once he can’t get said update, he’d just not bother with school at all at lunch break. You can bet he timed things wrong and was late for class more than once before he got in a groove. 
> 
> . As much as Michale wants to be impulsive he knows being careful with this is important for both Jeremy’s mental health and his own so he waits, let’s the knee jerk nature of the response fade out, then once it’s still there he acts on it.
> 
> . Jeremy was going to text Michale once he’d done eating, just something harmless that he know would make Michale smile and open up the line of communication that way. It’s possible Michale one upping him YET AGAIN might prove a fun thing for the anxiety to pick at down the line but, ultimately, Jeremy’s going to take it as proof positive that he’s not the only one who wants to save this friendship.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does what it says on the tin

**Sad Boi:** So, how does everyone feel about comming to mine this afternoon for a friendly game of monopoly?

**Richyrich:** I mean ‘friendly’ and ‘monopoly’ don’t go together, Jer, but, yeh, I’m in! 

**JakeyD:** Hmmm competitive board games with friends or actually doing my calc homework, how do I choose?

** CC: ** Board games all the way, that calc homework is a hell from which there is no return. 

**Rollan in the deep:** Mood.

** Pink: ** Ok, guys, seriously, once I have slaughtered you all at monopoly we are 100% having some intense Calc study time. 

**Rollan in the deep:** No offence Cloe, but why would you be the one giving us Calc help?

**Pink:** This goes no further but I have crazy math skills. As in I have a few legit papers out there under the pseudonym of Clara Vale.

**Rollan in the deep:** OMG, ok, I Googled Clara Vale and Cloe a) that disguise you wore for the photo for the NYT is so legit that I only knew it was you because I knew it was you and b)why did you feel the need to hide this from us when you knew we wouldn't judge?   
  


**Pink:** Honestly, I actually sort of forgot I hadn't told you guys about it until it just came up and thanks for the compliment, Jenna but, credit where credit is due, that look is all Brookie's hard work!

**Berry:** What can I say,  make up is my thing! 

**CC:** Ok, Chloe revelations to one side, what sort of time do you want us, Jer?

**Sad Boi:** Shall we say one? That should give eveyone time to organise getting here and for Brooke to make some more of those glorious cookies for snacks!!

**Berry:** Haha ok, sounds like a plan!

**Pink:** So, given as I’ll be going by both Cris and Jenna's houses to get my girl do you two want a lift as well?

** Rollan in the deep: ** Please

** CC: ** Absolutely, though promise me you’ll not talk math until later.

**Pink:** Promise

**JakeyD:** I’m still not cleared to get my licence back, the folks are gone, again and I’m broke as fuck so, hey, Rich, wanna split an Uber. 

** RichyRich: ** You are so on dude!!

** Sad Boi: ** Ok, well, I’ll see you all later oh and I guess now is a good a time as any to do this...

* ** Sad Boi ** updated their name to  ** Boyf ** *

** RichyRich:  ** OMFG Jer, does this mean what I think it means?

* ** mellow yellow ** updated their name to  ** Riends ** *

**Riends:** ( ＾ ω ＾）

** RichyRich: ** Duuuuuuuuudes!!! Congrats!!

** JakeyD: ** I am giving you both all the high fives later!!

** Rollan in the deep: ** I’m so glad both our best bois are now one another’s best bois too!! 

** Pink: ** I am so bringing a list of all the best non homophobic places to eat!! 

** Berry: ** Ugh, god, yeh, please benifit from our struggles guys! Also I’m now also bringing you both a celebratory cake!! 

** CC: ** I mean they both, independently, phoned me last night to let me know that this was a thing but, hey, have an extra congrats on chat!

**CC:** Also, god, guys feel my pain because I have had to listen to them both pining for mooooooooonths. Seriously, I legitimately almost snapped and shut them in a closet together more than once!! 

**Reinds:** Thank you for letting us just get around to using our big boy words, Cris! You are the best!! 

**Boyf:** 100% Best Gurl!! 

* **CC** changed their name to  **Best Gurl** *

**Best Gurl:** I will wear my crown with pride! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, initially, I was going to end this with another letter from Jeremy detailing where he was now and detailing the relationship progress that way. I couldn't get that idea flowing right and so, when this idea happened instead, I removed the slow burn tag given, you know, there really is no details of their relationship developing at all and I didn't want to bate people into reading. 
> 
> I am aware that this chapter doesn't really gel with the tone of the rest of the story and, honestly, I think it's probably better thinking of chapter five as the 'ending' and this as a little bonus thing...disappointing, I know, especially for me but I'd rather give you something I'm sort of happy with rather than something I actively dislike so there you go. 
> 
> Also, no I don't know why I decided it was a thing, but, now that I have you will Legit have to claw secret math nerd Chloe Valentine from my cold dead fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> Two notes for this one:
> 
> . I’ve never taken therapy so I have no idea if the set up of this chapter - being made to write a letter to yourself in the past- is an actual thing but it wouldn’t leave me as a set up for everything so. 
> 
> . On my first watch I actually found Stagedorks beyond cute but afterward my brain started picking at stuff and eventually I realised that, hey, Jeremy is just in love with the IDEA of Christeen isn’t he?
> 
> Also it’s kind of iffy that Christeen only seems to want to date him after she’s had the SQUIP in her head ‘synching’ her desire to his. 
> 
> Ok, yes, RED means that it shouldn’t be a thing anymore but...


End file.
